


truth be told, i never was yours

by rire



Series: Team Battle 2015 [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss, their last, and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	truth be told, i never was yours

i.

Their first kiss goes a little something like this—

An accident. Akashi reaching over to move a shogi piece at the same time Midorima did because he thought it was his turn. Brush of skin on skin, shivers up Midorima’s spine. A look in Akashi’s eyes that he couldn’t define. A hand, gripping around his own, as Akashi leaned over the table and pressed their lips together. An undignified squeak Midorima would rather forget about. Noses bumping a little.

But it is warm, so warm, spreading through Midorima’s body like the heat from cuddling under a blanket next to a fireplace.

It is the regular kind of first kiss— awkward, short, and enough to keep Midorima lying awake in bed for days.

(In hindsight, it probably wasn’t an accident. Akashi wouldn’t have made a stupid mistake like that.)

ii.

Their second kiss goes a little further—

Akashi’s fingers clutched in Midorima’s hair. Lips moving of their own accord, sloppy but hungry with desire. A quivering sigh from Akashi when Midorima experimentally ran his tongue over Akashi’s bottom lip, and—

It is cut short when Midorima’s mother knocked on the door to bring snacks.

“It’s so nice to see Shintarou bring a friend over,” she gushes. Midorima grunts, though he is secretly glad to have an excuse not to hide the blush he already has.

After she left, they exchange one mutual look, and decide that making out on Midorima’s bed would be a more valuable use of their time.

(By the end of the day, the snacks have still been untouched. Akashi, the poster boy of politeness that he is, stuffs them in his mouth before he leaves, ridding Midorima of the opportunity of a goodnight kiss.)

iii.

Their third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh kisses go similarly, to the point where Midorima almost stops counting, but he is a fastidious boy and so he does—

He knows that the one that tears them apart is the twelfth.

Claws digging into Midorima’s chest. Bindings, wrapping around him. An airless room.

“Akashi,” he says. “Akashi, no-”

“You know it as well as I do,” Akashi says. “We’re over. It’s time to move on to more important things-”

Like what? Victory?

Did the feeling of winning ever compare to the feeling of Akashi, pressed close to Midorima, a smile stretching languidly across his peaceful face, their arms and hearts interlocked?

Did the feeling of losing ever compare to the visceral pain he felt, watching Akashi walk away, walk away from something he once loved, watching his back ebb slowly out of his field of vision?

(Midorima doesn’t have the courage to ask. He knows what Akashi’s answer would be.)

iv.

The twelfth hadn’t been their last, but Midorima almost wishes it were.

The last and thirteenth kiss goes a little something like—

Like—

Midorima doesn’t remember it very well.

He remembers what happened before— a fight with Takao, many years after middle school, a visit to the bar, one too many drinks.

He remembers a flash of red swimming into his blurred vision.

He remembers, too vaguely yet too intensely, the spark that ignited upon his skin. The familiar feeling of flames licking up from his stomach throughout his entire body. It had only ever burned that way for Akashi. Akashi’s mouth on his as if devouring him. Flash forward— Akashi’s hands on his hips, digging hard. The slap of skin on skin. A noise he’d never imagined he’d hear, not from Akashi. Something wet sliding down his cheek.

He remembers the aftermath. He remembers the splitting headache. The urge to vomit for more reasons than one. The absence of a body lying next to him.

He might’ve thought of asking Akashi to stay, of asking for permission to return to how things were before.

“That is, if you want,” Midorima would stammer, blushing and looking away. And Akashi would take his hands in his own and say, “Of course I want to.”

But Akashi didn’t want to, because just like that, he was gone.

(Years later, Midorima would chuckle bitterly upon realizing that their first time had also been their last time.)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://akashintarou.tumblr.com/).
> 
> comments are greatly appreciated!


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